Musing's musings

Another titan bids farewell

Reuters is reporting that Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn has died at his home near Moscow. He was 89.

Solzhenitsyn had the satisfaction of outliving the Soviet regime he criticized so often and so bitterly that, after the publication of one of his major works (The Gulag Archipelago) it stripped him of his citizenship and sent him into exile. But I never did manage to delve into his longer works--or at least I haven't yet. I do have a copy of August 1914 that I picked up a couple of years ago. But, as with so many other books on my shelves, I just haven't had the time to get around to reading it, what with the pressures of coursework and research (and family, and a full-time job...)

What captivated me in Solzhenitsyn's writing was the one book he managed to get published in the Soviet Union--with the explicit permission of Nikita Khrushchev, during the early phases of the latter's de-Stalinization campaign--One Day in the Life of Ivan Denisovich. I first read that book (or at least excerpts from it), if memory serves, when I was in the sixth grade. My middle school was offering a not-for-credit elective in Russian at the time, and the teacher had us read it. I've since come back to it many, many times.

Methinks I'll go re-read it again.

Harvey Korman, 1927-2008

I'm sure they're laughing a little harder in heaven tonight. Harvey Korman, who played through a great deal of my youth alongside Carol Burnett and Tim Conway (among others), has died of complications from a ruptured aortic aneurysm. He was 81, God be good to him.

Many will remember him best from his role as Hedley Lamarr in Blazing Saddles, a movie which I've never seen and probably never will. I'll remember him as the prissy Comte de Monet in History of the World: Part I. But most of all, I'll remember all the classic sketches he did on the Carol Burnett Show, which was a regular weekly feature in our home for as long as I can remember.

It got to be a game, as the show wore on, to see who could get Harvey to crack up first. The winner was usually Tim Conway; frequently in their scenes together it was all either one of them could do to keep a straight face. And we were laughing just as hard as they were, if not harder. I can't remember the last time I saw anything on broadcast television that made me laugh like that. Heck, I can't even remember the last time I saw anything on broadcast television that even tried to make me laugh like that. Où sont les neiges d'antan?, indeed.

Good night, sweet prince,
And flights of angels sing thee to thy rest!

Good night, sweet prince

Dick Martin, who played the straight man to Dan Rowan for five risqué years (1968-1973) on NBC in the salad days of my youth, died yesterday at the age of 86.

I remember watching Laugh-In when I was growing up, though it wasn't targeted to five-year-olds by any means. I don't recall getting all the jokes--but many of the sketches have held up well. My mom got a couple of DVDs of the first two seasons of Laugh-In for Christmas a couple of years ago, and we watched some of them that year and laughed ourselves silly. Not bad for 40-year-old comedy.

Will Martin be missed? To use his own catchphrase, "You bet your sweet bippy."

Charlton Heston, 1924-2008

Charlton Heston, the veteran actor and quondam spokesman for the National Rifle Association, has died, probably from complications of Alzheimer's disease. The family spokesman who announced his death last night refused to disclose the cause, but Heston himself admitted he had symptoms "consistent with Alzheimer's" in 2002.

Heston has always been a conflicted figure for me--and that conflict extends to my feelings about the man and his politics. As the New York Times notes in the headline to its obituary for Heston, he was an "epic film star." As I parse that phrase, however, the emphasis belongs on the phrase "epic film." Heston was not an epic star, he was a star in epic films. And I never really felt that his acting was all that good in them.

Heston always seemed wooden to me on the screen--and especially in the biblical epics for which he was most famous (though perhaps that is part and parcel of that particular genre of film). The role that made Heston's career was Moses in The Ten Commandments. I still watch that movie at least once a year, but nowadays it's more for its appeal as an unintentional camp classic than for the brilliance of the acting (or the lack thereof; for my money, the best performance in that film was turned in by Sir Cedric Hardwicke as Sethi the Great). Moreover, playing the role of Moses and also doing the voice of God in that film, it always seemed to me that Mr. Heston identified a little too closely with the Deity thereafter, confusing his own voice and his opinions with those of the Lord.

Heston's politics were conflicted as well. Early in his life he was a Democrat and something of a liberal. He campaigned for John F. Kennedy, supported Martin Luther King, Jr., and participated in the 1963 civil rights march on Washington. After Robert Kennedy's assassination in 1968, Heston appeared on television with Gregory Peck, Kirk Douglas, and Jimmy Stewart and urged support for Lyndon Johnson's Gun Control Act. He changed his political affiliations after Robert Bork's nomination to the Supreme Court was rejected by the Senate. In 1998, he became president of the NRA. And while the most iconic image of Heston's career may well be the shot of him as Moses, standing by the shore of the Red Sea with hands outstretched to part the waters, the photograph of a much older Heston, holding a replica of a colonial musket over his head at the 2000 NRA convention and intoning "From my cold, dead hands," cannot be far behind.

Whatever one might think of Heston's politics, and it certainly seems to me that he spent the last twenty years of his life hanging out with the wrong crowd, and lending credibility to people who did not deserve it and whose actions would likely have been repulsive to Heston in his earlier days, no one deserves Alzheimer's and it is far from being an easy or a pleasant way to die. I hope he finds some peace at last. My condolences to his wife and family on their loss.

The politics of self-destruction

Both Towleroad and the Internet Movie Database are reporting that actor Brad Renfro has died, aged 25. Speculation abounds that his death may have been drug-related, though the coroner has not yet ruled on the cause of death. Speculation also abounds that it was the "Hollywood culture" that was the proximate cause of Renfro's death, that he was shoved into prominence too young, and lacked suitable adult guidance in the dog-eat-dog world of professional acting.

But that's too easy. No culture, whether Hollywood, New York, Chicago, or Bumfuck USA, can create an addiction. But it can certainly make feeding one a lot easier. When you make an awful lot of money in a very short time, when you're surrounded by people whose job it is to puff you up and make you look larger than life (and in some cases to satisfy your every whim), it's difficult to keep your head about you and make good decisions. It's somewhat similar to the situation of the worker in the candy factory: with all that chocolatey goodness around, it's bloody hard not to sample it--until you gorge yourself sick. At least with chocolate, if you overindulge the only thing you have to worry about is feeling a little queasy and putting on a few pounds (and maybe acne, if you're young enough).

Heroin, cocaine, methamphetamine, and all the rest of the recreational pharmacopoeia, on the other hand, are quite a different kettle of fish. Once you get hooked on one of those, a whole new world of hurt opens up in front of you.

No, this is most emphatically not going to turn into a Nancy Reagan-esque "Just say no!" rant. That campaign was a stupid fucking idea when it was introduced in the 1980s, and it hasn't improved any with age. The only difference between then and now is that now we have ironclad proof that it doesn't work.

So why is it that our drug laws are still stuck in the days of bad hair, greed, and bad politics? It would be easy, fairly pleasant, and even mostly true to blame the Republicans. "Just Say No!" is yet another Reaganite albatross they have willingly bound around their own necks. It fits too easily into the Republican paradigms of how the world works and what it ought to look like. In Republican-World, virtually everything is a personal choice. When someone makes what is held to be a wrong choice the answer isn't to fix the mess or to treat the problem, the answer is to shame the transgressor and appeal to his/her moral nature so that s/he doesn't repeat the transgression.

The problem is, of course, that many of the things Republicans want to portray as choices are really not choices at all--at least not in the morally and/or philosophically relevant ways. In Catholic theology, for example, in order to commit a sin and be held responsible for it, one must first know that a particular action (or sometimes a thought) is wrong--and then decide to do it anyway. One must absolutely be in control of one's faculties, and also know the difference between right and wrong. It is not at all clear to me that this can be reasonably said of an addict, given what we know about the biology of addiction.

However, while the Democrats may have their hearts and their heads in the right places, they have nevertheless been enablers of the Republicans. The problem on our side of the aisle is, I believe, the perennial fear of being seen or portrayed as weak or soft or wishy-washy. Never mind that we're right. Never mind that if we'd had our way, we might have escaped untold thousands of wasted lives, blasted homes, petty crimes by the million--and saved whole boatloads of money on prisons. No, our biggest worry is that the Republicans might run an attack ad and say we're soft on crime and want to coddle drug addicts and drug dealers. Heaven forfend, and somebody bring me my fainting couch!

Another voice joins the Choir Invisible

After a long battle with prostate cancer, Dan Fogelberg died today, aged 56.

I was first introduced to Fogelberg's music in my college days, by a couple of friends who were absolutely crazy about him. And while my liking for him and his music never approached their level of devotion, I could still appreciate his talents as a musician and songwriter. Nevertheless, I can honestly say the world is reduced by his passing. He was a craftsman of the old school--lyrics that often made one stop and think, melodies and harmonics that went well beyond the three chords and a drum track that seem to suffice for so many musicians these days.

God be good to him. My thoughts and prayers are with his family. It's always hard to lose a loved one, but doubly so at this time of the year.

From bad to worse

Somewhere, the ghost of Irwin Allen is smiling. As I wrote yesterday, Barack Obama and his campaign staff are taking considerable heat over a boneheaded move in which the campaign invited a notoriously anti-gay performer to headline at an event the campaign is sponsoring in South Carolina this weekend. Predictably, Obama's LGBT supporters were outraged, and demanded that the singer be dropped from the event. Obama refused to do so.

Now, taking a page from Faux News and attempting to appear fair and "balanced," the Obama campaign is adding an openly gay black minister to the gospel tour. The loud thudding you just heard was that idea going over like the proverbial lead balloon.

What in hell are Obama's people thinking, anyway? (Or should the question instead be "Are Obama and his people thinking?") As commenters far and wide about Left Blogistan have noted, the campaign's reaction to this event is the semantic equivalent of inviting David Duke to speak on one's behalf, and then asking the shade of Martin Luther King, Jr. to balance him out, or inviting a klezmer band to play to counterbalance the Hitlerjugend stylings of notorious white-supremacist group Prussian Blue (hell, no, I'm not linking there: use teh Google if you must). In what alternative universe is this an adequate response? Hell, in what alternative universe is this a response at all?

Bigotry is unacceptable. Period. You don't make that point by inviting a gay minister to talk about tolerance and opposition to bigotry, and then bringing on the bigot that you invited and whom you are paying to appear. Expecting that nobody would notice the inherent inconsistency involved is not what I would call impressive evidence of either competence or leadership, though there are some who are hailing this move by Obama's campaign as evidence of his alleged visionary leadership.

Me, I take it as quite the opposite. It's evidence that he will pander to anyone, on anything, in order to win votes--so watch out around him. He may be your best friend today, but tomorrow he may have to throw you under the bus to appease someone else--and as this incident amply demonstrates, he will do it.

Neither am I comforted by the allegations that this was a huge slipup by his campaign staff. If that is true, then why are those people still employed by his campaign? And what does it say about his administration, should he by some miracle win the election? Will not these same incompetent bunglers be running the White House--where, presumably, their decisions will be about far weightier and more important things? And wouldn't we want to elect somebody who, if s/he isn't smart enough to take care of little details like not hiring someone whose views are diametrically in opposition to everything s/he claims to stand for, at least is smart enough to hire a capable staff that will ensure s/he doesn't make that mistake?

You're deep in the hole, Senator. If you want to have any reasonable hope of salvaging your campaign, you need to (a) stop digging; (b) fire those responsible for this mess, immediately after they (c) fire Donnie McClurkin. Maybe that would be enough to win back some of the LGBT support you've lost. But I wouldn't bet heavily on that: just as I wouldn't bet heavily on your chances of attracting all those homophobic votes in South Carolina you were hoping for, either. They may like Donnie McClurkin, but they're not going to turn out to hear a gay man try and convince them that he's a Christian just like they are.

It doesn't matter how you slice this thing: it's still a shit sandwich.

The best and the worst of the hockey world

Toronto Maple Leafs forward Jason Blake was diagnosed with chronic myelogenous leukemia a week ago. During the third intermission of tonight's game between Toronto and the Buffalo Sabres on Versus, Christine Simpson sat down with Blake to talk about how his life has changed since making that announcement. To her surprise (and that of many of the viewers, doubtless), Blake said that he "felt lucky."

This is a man, just past his 34th birthday, who isn't sure he's going to live long enough to see his three children grow up, or walk his two daughters down the aisle. Six years ago, his wife had her own bout with cancer. And he thinks he's lucky because, in his words, he's been blessed to "have three kids and a beautiful wife, to play in the National Hockey League, to do things that people dream of doing." The sun, he says, is out 24 hours a day in his world.

Compare that reaction to the one that The Hockey News's editor-in-chief Jason Kay justifiably excoriated this past Saturday:

I’m not going to claim 10,000 or 12,000 or 18,000 people were wrong for booing the memory of the late Bill Wirtz at United Center during a pre-game ceremony on Oct. 6.

The disgruntled felt how they felt.

But this space is about how I feel – and it ranges from perplexed to troubled.

Let’s be clear, I’m not a Bill Wirtz booster. I understand why thousands of Chicago hockey fans have been disappointed/driven away by the way he mismanaged the franchise. No Cups in more than four decades; no home TV; feuds with several of the stars. It wasn’t a recipe for success.

At the same time, a human life is sacred. Unless we’re talking pure evil – and it my world, I’m thinking Saddam Hussein/rapist/pedophile/murderer evil – the appropriate behavior for me is to respect the departed and their families. That’s not a hypocritical stance, just decent.

I'm with Kay--say what you like about "Dollar" Bill Wirtz (and believe me, I've said plenty, and little of it good, about him), but there is a time and a place for expressing criticism--and at a memorial service is not that place or that time. Had I been at the United Center for the ceremony in question, although it would have rankled a bit, I'd have stood respectfully in silence while the team honored the passing of its longtime owner and president. Then, most likely, I'd have applauded lustily at the thought that his hand would no longer be at the reins, choking off the life of my hometown team that's been struggling to rediscover its fabled championship form for decades.

Can I get a do-over, please?

I am requesting unanimous consent to move the calendar back to, I dunno, sometime on Saturday, at which point I'd like to reset the world.

I started this post last night, but was unable to finish it for reasons that will become clear later on. Yesterday was not a great day by any standard. It started off with a frustrating commute, got worse when one of my faculty members got up on his high horse because he misunderstood some information he wasn't even supposed to have, and continued downhill from there.

On the way home, fighting through another frustrating commute, I learned that Lois Maxwell, who was the actress who first played Moneypenny through 14 James Bond flicks, died over the weekend. I came home to find that the power had been off (not an uncommon occurrence where I live, but not usually a catastrophic situation). My TiVo was, I thought, resetting itself and would settle down in a few moments and let me unwind with an episode of Jeopardy! or something else from my saved selections.

That didn't happen. My TiVo was still trying to reset itself when I finally unplugged it at around 8:30 last night. When I plugged it back in this morning, same result. Chances are good that I'm going to have to get a new one.

But that was just the start of the electronic nightmare. As I was typing out this post last night, preparatory to venting a bit, surfing a bit, and then buckling down to work, the keyboard locked up on my laptop. So I restarted the machine...only to get a particularly nasty Blue Screen of Death, informing me that I'd suffered a registry file failure. I couldn't even get it to reboot in safe mode--it started the process, but eventually took me back to the same dire warning.

I was planning to get another laptop next month when our retroactive raises should arrive in our paychecks. I wasn't planning to have to do it on the fly, and neither was I planning on having to hope I might be able to resurrect all of my personal files, to say nothing of my research notes, documents, photos, etc. Prayers, good thoughts, well-wishes, and cash donations all gladly accepted!

Now, dear readers, if you'll excuse me, I want to go crawl back into bed, pull the covers over my head, and pretend that yesterday never happened.

"Dumb Dora" she wasn't

Brett Somers, perhaps best known for being Jack Klugman's wife and one of the perennial panelists on Match Game, has died, aged 83, after a bout with cancer. Ms. Somers brightened many an afternoon in my salad days with her acerbic wit and continual banter (usually in doubles entendres) with Charles Nelson Reilly (who also died this year, apparently without attracting much notice, considering this is the first I've heard of it).

As a long-time viewer of the show (and thanks to GSN, I can catch it again--and marvel at the schlockiness of the late '70s), I can also definitively state that Reilly sat to Somers's left, not to her right as claimed in the E! News piece linked to above. Considering that they posted a video clip of the show along with their obituary, I'm surprised at that gaffe.